Journeyman (22 page)

‘What makes you say that, Smudger?’ he said. I, rather flippantly, referred him back to the previous day’s ‘discussion’, but John assured me there was no problem and I’d only got the thick end of the stick because I was the first one to pipe up. I wasn’t totally convinced by his explanation but decided to let sleeping dogs lie and get on with it.

By the way, if you’re wondering who ‘Smudger’ is, that would be me. As I’m sure you’re aware, footballers are not known for giving their teammates imaginative nicknames. Having a surname like Smith meant Smudger was the most obvious option; however, bearing in mind some of the other deficiencies I had, I wasn’t going to disagree with the moniker.

Next up was Swindon Town at their County Ground. I had somehow managed to get myself back in the match-day squad and watched from the bench as we were comfortably beaten 3–0 again. I came on for the last twenty minutes, replacing Sam – who had picked up an injury that actually finished his time at Hereford. Obviously it was a disappointing way for him to end his spell, but it meant I had an opportunity to get that thirty-game mark required to trigger my new deal – although it was by no means a foregone conclusion that I would be back in the team.

Next up was the trip everyone looked forward to – Carlisle away!

I got the nod and not only did we win 2–1 but I scored as well, my first of the season (an embarrassing stat for an attacking midfielder like me, but an indication of how poor the season had been personally). It was also one of my best performances of the season, although my frailties nearly came to the fore again.

I was having a great midfield battle with Carlisle’s old warhorse Graham Kavanagh but, early in the second-half, he exposed my Achilles heel by making a run off the back of me. I held my breath as he ran through but, luckily, he hit a post and we scrambled it away. If that had gone in I very much doubt I would have had much involvement in the rest of the season.

The result was a false dawn as we didn’t win a single game in our remaining nine fixtures. I managed to stay in the team for the majority of those and put in a couple of good displays against Hartlepool United and Leicester City, plus a terrible one against Tranmere Rovers. We lost the Tranmere game 2–1, but it was especially poor as it confirmed the inevitable: our relegation back to League Two.

According to my calculations, I’d made twenty-nine starts by then and there were four games remaining. I was left out of our next game versus Colchester United and was pretty sure it was due to the contract clause. In fairness though, after my abject performance in the previous game I did deserve to be dropped.

I was now in a quandary because it seemed clear I wouldn’t play another game thanks to the clause in my contract: should I go to see GT and tell him I would waive the clause to at least play some more and put myself in the shop window; or should I play dumb, sit tight and hope I’d just been dropped because of my poor performance?

After the defeat to Colchester I decided to give the situation more time to develop and, to my surprise, I was named in the team away to my former club Yeovil Town. This guaranteed me another year’s contract – or so I believed. I wasn’t expecting it but I also wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Even though I was recalled to the team, I’d seemingly lost my role as vice-captain. Nothing was said directly; the gaffer just named the team and announced Steve Guinan was captain. He’d easily been our best player all season and deserved it, but, then again, I would’ve appreciated a subtle
word explaining the situation beforehand – even if it was just: ‘You’ve been rubbish and don’t deserve to lead the team.’

The Yeovil game encapsulated the embarrassment our season had inflicted on the club and its supporters. We started the game well and went 2–0 up before an inevitable collapse. Huish Park erupted and their players went off celebrating like they’d just won the FA Cup, which was understandable as it confirmed Yeovil’s safety in League One for another season. I, on the other hand, just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. It felt like everyone was laughing at us. In the grand scheme of things, the result meant very little – but it dented my professional pride.

There was a huge change at the club before our next game away at Northampton. GT decided to step down as manager and John took over the reins.

Obviously it was a shame GT stood down in such disappointing circumstances. After saving Hereford United from the brink of bankruptcy and turning the club into a profit-making organisation, he deserved to go out in a blaze of glory – but he was doing what he thought was best for the club.

From a personal perspective, I didn’t think the change of management would have much of an effect on my future, whatever that may be.

We lost 2–1 in Northampton but put in what was a decent performance for us. A few things John did then made me question his managerial credentials. During his first team talk he gave an aggressive speech making it clear that if you ‘didn’t do what he wanted’ you’d be removed from the pitch ‘irrespective of the time in the game’.

I never liked such threats as I felt they put players on edge before a game had even started. We were unfortunate not to get a result at Northampton but, in Monday’s debrief, John again blamed me for us conceding a decisive goal.

The ball had gone in to their striker Akinfenwa on the edge of our box so, as one of our defenders marshalled him tightly from behind, I tried to nick the ball from the front. I was unsuccessful and he laid it back to my former Arsenal youth-team colleague Jason Crowe who smashed it in from 25 yards.

I was definitely partially at fault for the goal of course but to lay all the blame at my feet seemed harsh. However, this season had highlighted the fact I did have a problem with following the ball rather than staying with my man.

That was always a weakness of mine, even as I remember all the way back to my days as a schoolboy at Arsenal. Fred, my then coach and whose surname eludes me, would say after almost every game that I was great going forward but not as good defensively.

Unfortunately, we were getting battered most weeks. Defending was all I was doing – and I clearly wasn’t doing it very well. I remember once reading a quote from Johan Cruyff: ‘If a defender has to sprint, it’s too late.’ I think that summed up my defensive skills. I’d regularly think
oh shit
when someone ran off me, but by then it would usually be too late.

We finished our season at home to MK Dons. We lost and my performance was pathetic; I was anonymous until I managed to be at fault for their winning goal. I looked over to the bench and John was going ballistic. Before the ball had been returned to the centre spot, my number was up and I’d scuttled off the pitch without making eye contact with him.

I was embarrassed. I didn’t recognise this player who, just a year earlier, had been dominating games from midfield. GT came in after and thanked us for our efforts, but I wasn’t really listening as we all knew he was just going through the motions.

John added that he would be contacting everyone by phone regarding the club’s plans for next season. There was no last debrief or meeting – that probably told a story itself.

It was fine by me though – I just wanted to go home and forget about the whole season. I thought I’d triggered the clause in my contract entitling me to another year but I was sceptical because nobody at Hereford had confirmed anything.

Within a week of the season finishing, while I was in my office working
on my degree, John rang to inform me that every player would be getting a letter from the club saying they had been released. Some, however, would be getting contract offers.

That was a naughty move and an unethical way of doing things. How it normally works is if a Football League club offers you a contract, they have to confirm it in writing. Once you get the confirmation, you have twenty-eight days to accept or reject the offer. It is a legally binding document.

If, after twenty-seven days, the club decides to retract the offer but the player wants to accept, they then have to stand by the offer or agree a settlement with the player. So, by telling us all we had been released, Hereford could then give verbal offers that it could withdraw whenever it liked.

John went on to say my £1,400 per week contract was massive – which I took as a compliment to my negotiating skills – and that if I were to stay he would be looking at me taking a pay cut of 50 per cent. I took the opportunity to tell John I was entitled to another year on the same money and I heard the deep gulp he took before saying he would call me back.

Within ten minutes, Joan Fennessy, the club secretary, called to inform me that I was not entitled to another year as, even though I had made thirty-two starts, only twenty-nine of them were in the League. What a coincidence…

She also added that, because we’d been relegated, I was only entitled to £750 per week. I explained the £750 per week deal was only if we got relegated to the Conference and, as far as I was aware, we’d only been demoted to League Two. I told her I would have to look at my contract to confirm this.

There was one small problem with me looking at my copy of the contract: I couldn’t find it! In the end, I had to ring the FA and get a copy faxed over. Unfortunately, it confirmed what Joan had said about the thirty League starts.

John rang back and said he knew I wouldn’t be in a rush to accept a 50 per cent pay cut but that he would give me a call in June to discuss the situation.

I was really disappointed – not so much with the contract offer but with the way the management had blatantly stopped me reaching the thirty-game
mark. I understood the financial landscape had changed since I’d signed the contract, but what I didn’t understand was why GT hadn’t just pulled me to one side and discussed the situation. If we’d had a meeting then I’m sure we could’ve come to an agreement. Instead, management had pretended to know nothing about the situation and basically insulted my intelligence.

If I was someone who’d done nothing at all for the club then I might’ve had some sympathy for the management. However, bearing in mind the overall contribution I had made, I felt I deserved at least an admission as to why they did what they did.

I also learnt a lesson – the only mistake I made in my negotiations with Hereford was I should have insisted on an extra year’s contract in the event of promotion, rather than based on the number of games played in my last season.

The clause I had was worthless – detrimental, in actual fact. If a player has such a clause, not only do they not get their new contract if the club wishes them not to, but they also don’t get the opportunity to play and impress another prospective employer.

Don’t get me wrong – I personally had a poor season. But, the year before, I (along with a lot of my teammates) made big contributions in getting the club promoted. In my opinion, there was no reason why we couldn’t, with some decent additions, do it again. To get rid of players, or make very little attempt to keep them, seemed a short-sighted approach to me.

The more I thought about it, the more I was determined not to take the mooted offer. The reason I say mooted is because John never formally offered me the revised contract. Out of principle, I decided I would find a new club. It was a big decision as both my girlfriend and I were again settled and happy, but she understood the life of a footballer.

It was a really disappointing way for everything to end and I didn’t want my legacy at Hereford to be that last season. I’d thoroughly enjoyed my two spells at the club on the whole, having built up a great rapport with
the supporters and enjoyed working for GT. I’d lost a little bit of respect for him with the way my exit was handled, but I’d learnt a lot and he’d really helped my career. When I’d re-joined the club, I’d wanted to stay for a long time and really make myself a home in Herefordshire.

I wasn’t going to kid myself into thinking any League One clubs would want me, but, after the season before last, I was confident there would be some interest from within League Two.

Even though it had been a terrible season, I’d still made forty appearances, including thirty-two starts, although I’d hit just one goal.

Somehow I’ve managed it – I have completed a school year and discovered a newfound respect for teachers. Before I started I thought I’d be waltzing into school at about 8 a.m. and be home by 4 p.m. – how wrong was I?!

I was in school, more often than not, by 7.30 a.m. and often didn’t leave until 5 p.m., doing between forty-five and fifty hours a week, split between the school and work I did at home. When you think I was earning £410 a week, that works out at a pretty poor hourly wage.

What about all the holidays you got, I hear you say? Correct – there were a lot of holidays, but if you think teachers just sit at home and relax then you are sorely mistaken. Those breaks were a godsend as they either allowed me to get ahead of the game and do some planning or marking, or they enabled me to catch up and keep my head above water – more often than not I was doing the latter.

It’s strange: I’ve been looking forward to leaving for so long but now it’s finally happened the buzz isn’t the same. On the last day I even started
thinking that maybe I’d done the wrong thing – but that thought only lasted about a minute before I started thinking about all the hours struggling in front of those ICT classes.

The day I left was strange. As a footballer you’re normally ushered quietly out of the back door, but at school I was given gifts by the business, ICT and PE departments – and also some of the kids.

The gifts included a manual called PCs for Dummies (I could’ve done with that a year ago!), a book about publishing your own book (hopefully reading that has paid off!), a football from the Year 10 team I very unsuccessfully tried to coach all season, and a picture of the Year 7 PE class from hell (by the end of the year, I was actually starting to make progress with those nutters).

That represented what I’ve enjoyed most about the job: building relationships with the kids. There were many facets I was poor at, but this was something I definitely had an aptitude for. I talked to the kids on their level and, in actual fact, felt more comfortable talking to them than I did to many of the staff.